Although the day had started out blissfully cool, it only got hotter as the hours moved on. To save their horses at the hottest part of the afternoon, the Railwalkers went on foot. The flat stretches of desert began to curve with every mile, until forming mountains at the edge of the horizon. The brush scratched and scraped their boots, and the hot air strangled them. Despite this, they were careful with their water, and only had occasional sips to keep themselves living. More than once, Violet saw buzzards overhead. She ignored the unsettling feeling they brought with them.
For countless days they traversed the desert. They ate the freshest food first, to prevent spoil, and left each morning before sunup. Their plan, according to Mei, was to travel until reaching the Rio Grande, then venture northwest from there, stopping in for supplies along towns and trade routes along the way. From where the Bone House was, they had about a two week trip on foot. Near the end of the first, Violet would wake in endless sweat, her mouth dry as the sand they walked upon. Desperate to conserve their energy, they refrained from speaking most days, and were so tired in the evening that all energy was spent eating, scouting, and sleeping.
By the tenth day, their water was running thin. In the small hours of the early morning, Linus and Sitting Bear took it upon themselves to collect as much cactus juice as they could manage to carry. It left Violet sticky, and thirstier than before, but it kept her alive. The water was divvied up among the horses. And then finally, on the twelfth day, they were greeted one hot afternoon with the smell of water in the air.
Rory saw it first. Excitedly, he pointed out, and without warning, rushed to the riverbank. Violet was the next to follow. They fell to the water in utter joy, drinking and wetting their hair. They spent the whole day at the river, letting the toil of the desert trail wash away from them.
Violet and Mei, finding a secluded mouth a small ways out, stripped down and took a bath together. Poised behind a rock, she and Mei waded in the chilled river, washing the mud and dirt off their bodies. While scrubbing her arms, Violet was quietly grateful that she had cut her hair before they left Bone House. She could only imagine the weight of Mei’s hair on her neck in the boiling heat.
“Mei,” she said. “Turn around a moment.” Mei did so, and Violet began to braid her hair. “Figger we should keep it up off your shoulders. You’ll be cooler.”
Mei closed her eyes and smiled, head bobbing just barely above water. “Smart thinking.” They floated together in silence, the sun warming their exposed, wet skin. Once Mei’s hair was braided, Violet began to curl it into a tight bun in the back of her head. With no pin to help, Violet tucked the ends in on themselves and hoped for the best.
“Feel better?” she said.
Mei nodded. “Much.” She wiped a few stray hairs from her face and rounded to Violet. Her stomach flipped with delight, and Violet wrapped her arms around Mei’s neck. They shared a deep kiss, suspended against the river’s pull.
Voices drew them out of their solitude. Violet looked up from the bank of the river to see a small posse of men on horseback approaching them. She and Mei remained where they were, but floated closer to the river bank, just to be sure that their guns were at arms’ length.
“Pardon us, fellas—” The leader of the pack spoke as he approached. He was obviously younger than he let on, riding with a gait that belied authority. But the baby fat in his clean, peachy face hinted that he was barely Violet’s age. Upon coming close enough to make out the details in Mei and Violets’ faces, he promptly turned his horse about face, his neck beet red from the mix-up. “Oh Lord—! I thought…Deepest apologizes, ladies, I thought for sure…” As he sputtered out an apology, the rest of the horsemen approached. The next man to speak was in every way the first man’s opposite.
“Forgive the intrusion, ma’am.” He was grizzled, with a salt and pepper beard spattered across a wrinkled countenance. He spoke with a raspy, graveled voice. The three others behind him were similar in fashion. The grizzly man kept his eyes pinned to Violet, all but ignoring Mei’s existence. “Don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m afraid these parts ain’t fit for travelers. We’d like you to move along as soon as you’re done, here.”
Violet and Mei exchanged glances. “How so?” Violet asked.
“Bandits, ma’am,” said the grizzly man. “Mexican desperadoes that prey on travelers. They’ve been hitting wagons and merchants all along the outskirts of El Paso.” He gestured to the men behind him. “Me’n the boys here have been keeping watch along the roads to escort folk like yourselves to safe passage. So when you and your handmaid are all finished up, we’d like it if y’all came with us.”
Violet snorted. Mei a handmaid? Perish the thought. “I think we’ll be fine on our own, gentlemen, but thank you kindly.”
The men shifted uncomfortably. The grizzly man smiled just so, and tipped his hat back to see better. “I’m afraid that’s not much of an offer, miss. We’ve been ordered to give any and all travelers ‘round here escort to San Elizario Mission.”
But Violet shook her head. “Even so, we’re gonna have to decline. Sorry.”
The men mumbled to one another. After coming to a consensus, the grizzly man sat up straighter in his saddle and furrowed his wiry brow. “Now miss, I’m gonna ask you one last time. We’ll give you some privacy to dress yourself, and then we escort you to safety. I ain’t havin’ your blood on my hands, thank you very much.”
Before Violet could retort, Mei pushed herself out of the water, much to the shock and embarrassment of the rough men. Keeping her eyes on the grizzly man, Mei picked up her Winchester, cocked it once, and pointed it right between the man’s eyes. Her face remained impassive.
“Funny. I ain’t worried about getting your blood on mine.”
The men stirred, some nervously fingering the guns on their hips. But Violet knew that look in Mei’s eye; the cold, bloodless, impenetrable glare that chilled to the bone. No doubt the men unconsciously knew that they were dealing with someone terribly dangerous.
“The lady said no,” Mei continued. “Now I suggest you honor that choice, unless I decide to lame your horses and watch y’all crawl home.”
The young man, who forced himself out of his embarrassment, puffed his chest and reached for his gun. “I ain’t a’scared a’no hot headed chink whore—!” Just as he pulled out his pistol, Mei tilted her barrel and fired. The bullet pierced the young man’s hand, forcing him to drop his six shooter and howl in pain.
The grizzly man held out a hand, stopping any retaliation through either side. Though the air was tenser than ever, the panic settled. He addressed Mei with a steady voice. “We came here under peaceful intentions. There ain’t no need for violence.”
“I’d say an attempt to force a vulnerable woman to do as you say is a perfect need for violence.” Mei kept her gun raised, but took a step back, dismissing the men. “It was a pleasure, fellas.” The grizzly man motioned for the others to follow, and with their pride wounded, they rode off down the dusty trail.
Violet let out a gleeful laugh. “Wheeeee—wee…And here I thought I couldn’t like you any more’n I did.” She held out her hands as Mei flashed her a coy smile. “C’mere, handmaid.”
Mei scoffed and walked back into the cool, inviting waters, and they laced their arms together. “Don’t you go getting ideas.” Laughing together, the enjoyed the rest of their bath in peace.
* * * *
Violet was walking. She’d been walking for hours, but her feet felt like air.
Nothing was heavy. Not even her steel toed boots.
The world was soft, and white.
Violet looked around.
There were figures in the distance. Slim, barely visible, fading with the horizon.
Hey!
Violet tried to shout.
She couldn’t.
Hey, hey! Over here!
In and out the figures faded. In and out. In and out.
Black became white. Up became down.
Her whole world spun around her.
And then a pain. A bullet. Her heart was bleeding. She covered the wound, but more blood came. It gushed, turning black like oil when it hit the ground. And there, holding the gun, was Mei.
Up…get up…
“Get up, you good for nothin’ bitch.”
Violet awoke to a rough kick to her stomach. Blurry eyed and woozy, Violet looked around. Men, hidden in shadow, surrounded the Railwalkers’ camp. Sitting Bear struggled against taut rope. Linus and Rory remained still, a gun to each of their heads. And Mei, sweaty and furious, was pressed to the ground beneath the heel of a boot. Her own Winchester was pointed directly at her temple.
“You gonna get to your feet or am I gonna have to drag you?” Violet recognized the voice of the grizzly man from before. Panicked, Violet’s first instinct was to knock the guns away, but she thought better of it. One itchy trigger could end the lives of any of her friends, and so she remained still. “Up, goddamn it.” The grizzly man yanked Violet by her arm, pulling her to her knees. The grizzly man spat onto the ground, and rounded to her, Mei’s gun cradled in his arm.
“We tried bein’ nice,” he said. Violet could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Guess we just do it this way, then. Either way, we get our money.”
“Money for what?” Violet demanded. The men chuckled.
Linus, his eyes burning into the sand, spoke first. “They mean to sell us.”
“Sell? But you can’t—!”
“Aww.” The grizzly man knelt down in front of Violet and grinned. In the moonlight, Violet could see every tobacco-stained hole in his teeth. “Ain’t that cute. Let me guess. A northern girl? Probably a lover of old ‘Honest Abe,’ ain’t she, boys?” The men laughed, louder this time. The grizzly man tilted Violet’s chin up with the tip of the Winchester’s barrel. “Marshals won’t care what we do with a nigger, a chink, and a red man. And you, my dear, will fetch a pretty penny at an El Paso whore house, I reckon. I bet you ain’t never even felt a man before, have you? They pay extra for virgins—”
In a sudden jolt, Mei knocked the boot off her neck and slammed her whole body against the grizzly man. They went down in a tussle, and in the chaos, Rory managed to slip from camp and high tail it into the darkness. One of the men fired after him, but Rory was too quick, and the night hid him too well. After subduing Mei, the grizzly man stood, and motioned his gunman to remain at ease. “Let ‘em go,” he said. “If the Mexicans don’t get to him, the buzzards will.” The grizzly man turned to the rest of them, who remained helplessly at gunpoint. “Well. No time like the present. Let’s get a move on.”
Each one of the Railwalkers were bound by their hands with scratchy hemp rope. Tied to the back of a horse each, they were marched away from the Rio Grande and into the desert. For hours they walked, the men occasionally tugging at their leads for sport. The Railwalkers were instructed to keep quiet, and so Violet spent her morning listening in on the men’s conversations.
The grizzly man was named Richard, and from his saddle hung a preserved shred of a burned Confederate flag. The young one, now nursing the bullet wound in his hand, was Tom. The other three were Simon, Victor, and Hank, respectively, though Violet had a hard time telling them apart. From what Violet could gather, this was Tom’s first time out, as the others ribbed him for being green on the trail. Victor and Hank had an ongoing bet over something, and neither could decide who owed whom what money and when. Simon, whom Violet eventually identified as rather portly around the middle, kept the party supplied with distasteful jokes, usually at the Railwalkers’ expense. Typically, he described either imagery of what he wanted to do to Violet, or blatantly regarded the other three as less than human. The experience was hellish.
By the time they arrived at El Paso, it was high noon. The Railwalkers were famished and drenched with sweat. El Paso was bustling, with massive public buildings and wide city streets. An overlooking hotel perched at the main corner, while inns, bars, and brothels fanned out behind it. A measly church sat idle in the distance.
“Afternoon, sheriff.” Richard spoke to a man who approached them. He was dark around the eyes, with a dinged-up star on his waistcoat. The sheriff gestured to the Railwalkers, as if to ask about them. Richard nodded in his captives’ direction. “Horse thieves,” he said. He held out his hand, motioning to the Railwalkers’ horses. “Caught ‘em off the Rio Grande.”
“All right,” said the sheriff, looking them over. “Let’s take ‘em in. We got a man out from the railroad who might need some extra hands.” Mei, though she kept her eyes focused downward, immediately tensed. Violet wanted nothing more than to reach for her hand. The sheriff circled them before stopping at Violet. He removed Violet’s hat, looking at her face. “What’s this one’s story?”
“Accomplice.”
Finally, Violet couldn’t stay silent any longer. “That’s a lie!” All eyes snapped up to her, her friends’ included. “We didn’t steal no horses, no how! These horses are ours! That one there, that’s Maple! She’s been mine since I was four and a half years old!”
“Violet…” Mei hushed.
“These men kidnapped us!” Violet pointed her bound hands at Richard and his crew. “We was sound asleep when they came up on us! They held us at gun point, beat us senseless, and dragged us here to sell us like cattle!” After her proclamation, Violet took a moment to catch her breath. The men passed each other uncertain looks. Richard slipped from his saddle and approached Violet. Though he wore a smile, his eyes were poisonous.
“Poor thing,” he growled. “Must be some kind of Oriental mind trick, make her believe such nonsense.”
Violet whipped around to the sheriff. “I’m telling you—!”
Whack! Richard smacked the back of his hand against Violet’s face. The blow didn’t hurt much on its own, but the force nearly knocked her off her feet. Lifting her head, the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. The sheriff didn’t seem the slightest bit moved.
“All right. Get them to the station and we’ll sort them out.”
Richard and his men dragged the Railwalkers down towards the sheriff’s station, which was little more than a pine box with three connecting cells inside. Sitting Bear and Linus were thrown into the middle cell, and Mei and Violet had the left. The right was occupied by a snoring drunk, flies buzzing around his open mouth. Once the sheriff closed and locked the cell doors, he and Richard went outside to chat, leaving the Railwalkers to their stuffy new arrangements.
Immediately, Mei bent a knee to observe the damage Richard left on Violet’s face. “Did he hurt you?” she demanded.
Violet smiled, bitterly. “You do worse,” she said. Violet looked up to Linus and Sitting Bear. “Why didn’t y’all fight? Speak up, anything?”
Linus shook his head. “It wouldn’t make a difference. Look what good it did you.” Violet hung her head. “You’re on our level now, Vi. Don’t matter how much truth you talk, won’t nobody believe you in our company.”
“So what are we gonna do?” Violet asked. “We can’t just…” Violet gestured around her, at a loss for words. “Hell, they’re gonna throw me into a whore house!”
“We’ll get out of here,” said Mei. “Don’t you worry. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this before.”
“Not to mention they don’t know who we are,” Linus added. “Otherwise they wouldn’t bother selling us to a railroad. We’d be headed for the noose as we speak.” Linus leaned against the wall of his cell and pulled out his harmonica, which had been hidden in his inside pocket. “Sometimes, there’s value to bein’ invisible.” Flipping over a bucket, Linus made himself comfortable and began to play. It was a somber, gentle song, and despite their predicament, Violet felt comforted.
Outside, Violet heard the men talk. It was hard to really listen, but a few words made it passed the noise of the outside world. Words like “construction,” and “liable” first came to the forefront. Unfortunately, there were too many fragments to piece together the whole of it, until a loud voice boomed,
“Ah, Mr. DeWitt! You’re still around! Excellent.”
Violet didn’t find anything unusual with that name; she certainly hadn’t heard of it before. But Mei, also listening in, snapped up like a firecracker. Her eyes pierced through the entrance of the station, though the sunlight washed away any details of who’d be standing there. Violet observed Mei curiously. She opened her mouth to ask, when the men outside stepped inward.
First came the sheriff. After him followed Richard and Tom. The fourth was a man Violet hadn’t yet seen. He was tall, and impressive. He wore a white suit, impeccably kept, even in the dusty climate. His hair was black, but peppered with wise gray. On his sharp jaw was a well-groomed mustache, trimmed to the closest whisker. Beside her, Violet could feel Mei tighten, like a stick of dynamite ready to blow.
“We got some new degenerates, Mr. DeWitt,” said the sheriff. “Figured you’d wanna take a look-see before we send ‘em off to the chain gang, eh?”
Mr. DeWitt stepped forward and first peered into Linus and Sitting Bear’s cage. Violet noticed that they were about as tense as Mei. “Fine specimens, gentlemen.” His accent was strongly southern, and was a dialect Violet hadn’t heard since Georgia, though she doubted he was from there. “Do they speak English?”
“The gook does,” said Richard, gesturing at Mei. “Not sure about the Injun.”
“Well, no matter. I’ve dealt with brutes of his sort before.” His eyes trailed to Violet. He cocked a curious brow. “And this wildflower here, sir? Surely you don’t intend to put a girl on the tracks?”
“We got plenty a whore houses ready to take the bobcat,” Richard replied. “My guess is she might even be a virgin. She’d be worth money hand over fist at that rate.”
“Really.” Mr. DeWitt stood in front of the cell door and eyed Violet, much how a buyer would eye a prized hound before purchase. “Stand up, girl.” Violet looked to Mei, who was seething red by now. With Mei unresponsive, Violet stood. “What’s your name, child?”
Again, Violet looked to Mei for aid. Mei remained as she was. “Violet,” she said.
“Violet,” Mr. DeWitt repeated. “A beautiful name. It is a pleasure.” He removed his white hat and spoke clearly: “My name is Jacob Abernathy DeWitt. Most folk just call me Abernathy.”
Abernathy.
Violet whipped to Mei, who had been just as she was. Abernathy. Was this Mei’s target? Standing before them, totally within reach, and yet, utterly protected against anything the Railwalkers might try. Violet knew now that it was taking every inch of Mei’s self-control to keep herself still.
“Now then.” Abernathy squared his hat back firmly on his head and smiled, cordially. “How’ve these men been treating you?” He chuckled. “I swear. Western men have no sense of congeniality. Sheriff.” He addressed the lawman. “This young lady is not fit to be in the company of animals. If you please.”
The sheriff seemed put out, but obliged. He opened the door for Violet to exit, but just as Abernathy took a single step forward, Mei barreled square into him, knocking him to the ground. Mei fought like a bat out of hell, so quick and deadly in her attack that, although brutal, Mei had pounced entirely silent. Every ounce of focus she could spare was funneled directly into one objective: Kill Jacob Abernathy DeWitt.
“Damned chink!” With a yell, Richard threw his weight into Mei, and eventually knocked her down into the corner. Her own Winchester still in his hands, he pinned her to the wall and set the sights of the rifle right between her eyes. “Mr. DeWitt!” Richard panted. “You give the word and I blow this bitch back to Kingdom Come!”
“No, no, easy now sir.” With the help of the sheriff, Abernathy stood and dusted off his jacket. He now sported a nasty bruise and a split lip, and his perfect suit was frayed at the seams. Other than those few minor injuries, Mei had been knocked off before she did any real damage. “I like them with a little fire. Though, perhaps, not as much fire as this one.” He straightened his necktie. “I will say, my company doesn’t plan to build here for a few years yet, gentlemen. If you could possibly break this one by that time, I’m sure she’ll be invaluable.” He returned to Violet, who had watched the whole thing helplessly. “Now…What do you say we get you away from such unfit company?” He held out his hand for Violet to take.
But Violet’s resolve hardened. Her eyes peered into Abernathy’s, now without a shred of fear. “I think I’m just fine here, Mr. DeWitt.”
Abernathy’s smile faltered. “Now Miss Violet,” he warned, “be reasonable. You stay here, and you either get shipped off to a women’s prison or a brothel house. I’d rather not leave a young lady in such a predicament, being the philanthropist that I am. We can work on sending you home, darling.”
But Violet had already retreated further into the cell. She stood tall as she could, and kept her voice steady. “And I’d rather die a whore than go along with the likes of you.”
Abernathy lowered his hand. “I see,” he said. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood and sweat from his chin. “Well, I can at least respect your resolve, no matter how foolish.” He turned to make his exit. “Good luck with that one, boys. You’re going to need it, I dare say.”
And with that, Jacob Abernathy DeWitt was gone.
The rest of the afternoon, the Railwalkers were isolated. Their dinner consisted of a few stale pieces of bread and watery gravy, accompanied by tin mugs of water. The cell was stiflingly hot. Blocked off completely from any natural breeze, the air was stale, and by four, Violet’s clothes were slick with sweat. Additionally, the dry atmosphere chalked up her throat. She nursed her cup of water for as long as she could. Even when the tin was bone dry, Violet occasionally put her lips to the edge, as if to siphon any remaining moisture that might have been hidden within. While they were left to their confinement, Violet dwelled on what had bothered her since that morning.
“I hope Rory’s all right,” she finally croaked. “Granted, I’m good and thankful that he don’t gotta suffer this with us, but—” She shook her head. “It’s so hot. And Rory, all alone…He don’t got nothing to eat, nothing to fight with.” She stopped when Mei laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t you worry too much about Rory,” she said. “He’ll be just fine.”
“But how do you know?” Violet asked.
“He’s a survivor,” said Linus. “Always has been. Don’t you fret.”
It was unsatisfactory, but the answer would have to do. Just then, the door had swung open, and in walked the sheriff, this time in the company of a woman. She was older, her graying blonde hair pinned tightly to the back of her head. Judging from her shiny emerald dress and visible garters, Violet harbored a guess that she wasn’t exactly a governor’s wife.
“Is this the one?” she said, approaching Violet’s cell. Her features were sharp and unwelcoming, with a beaky nose and thin lips, curled perpetually into a sour sneer. She tsked. “Hardly a golden goose, Arnie.”
Arnie—the sheriff—ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “No,” he agreed, “but she’s cheap.”
Violet stood, her heart pounding in her ears. It didn’t take much to piece two and two together. “You can forget it,” she snapped. “I ain’t goin’ with her, no way no how. You can’t sell me to no dirty cathouse, no sir.”
The green woman turned to Sheriff Arnie. “Is she always so ornery?”
“From what I can tell.”
“Lord.” The green woman took out a hand fan and opened it with a loud “snap!” She waved it against her sweaty neck and looked Violet up and down. “Still. I suppose some of the clients wouldn’t mind the challenge.”
“Oh, I got more than a challenge for ‘em! You force any man on me and I’ll cut ‘em up good and proper—!” Her arm suddenly jerked, and Violet was brought down to her knees. Mei, who had kept crouched, spoke softly and quickly.
“Go with them,” she said. Violet’s jaw dropped in horror, but Mei continued. “You get out of this cell, and you get a chance to make a run for it. You got a better chance of it than any of us. Go.”
Violet, with a heavy heart, knew that Mei was right. Her eyes teared up at the thought of leaving Mei’s side. Before she could open her mouth to say goodbye, Sheriff Arnie whacked the cell door with his gun, making Violet jump out of her skin.
“Well?” said Arnie. “You coming quietly or do we ship you to New York, girl?”
Violet’s chest was so tight, it hurt. She took Mei’s hand and squeezed it. Mei squeezed back. Defeated, Violet stood and hung her head. Arnie opened the cell door and yanked Violet out by the arm. The door was promptly closed and locked behind her. Keeping his meaty hand clamped around Violet’s arm, Arnie shoved Violet away from the cells and out into the blinding sunlight.
The green woman led them both around the corner and towards a stately building at the end of the road. The sign above the wide doors read: “The Pearl Parlor.” Along the front porch, women lingered in welcoming positions, fanning themselves and beckoning passers-by. The green woman walked Arnie and Violet into the cool lobby of the brothel. Men sat around circular tables, drinking and playing cards, even this early in the afternoon. Women were scattered here and there, entertaining their male patrons with shots of whiskey and frivolous attention.
“This way,” said the green woman. She turned down a long, winding hallway, which led to a back stairwell. Up two narrow flights, they came upon an office, and the green woman took a seat behind a dark, wooden desk. There was an iron safe to her right, and a shelf of books and documents to her left. She even had a whiskey decanter for visitors, and a couple of chairs opposite her own, which she offered to Arnie.
While Arnie helped himself to a seat and a shot of liquor, Violet stood in the center of the office, stiff and observant. “How long do I gotta stay here?” she asked, pointedly.
“Well, let’s see now…” Arnie swirled his shot glass before downing the whiskey. “I’d say them horses you stole—they’s at what? A hundred a head? Easy? Except the foal, probably.” He poured another shot and leaned back in his chair. “Not to mention a penalty for the crime itself. I’d say a fair price would be…$450?”
“Four hundred—?!” Violet paled, her voice cracking at the fine.
Arnie nodded, sipping his second glass of whiskey. “You want to avoid a trial and a five year prison sentence, I suggest you work that off here under Miss Bethany. What do you think a gal like her should charge, Miss Bethany?”
Miss Bethany, as the green woman was called, leaned back in her chair and once more took Violet into consideration. Her spindle fingers fiddled with the hand fan. “At present?” she said. “Two dollars. Perhaps three, when she gets better at it. One day, she might even be able to charge five.”
“There you have it.” Arnie finished his second whiskey and stood, addressing Violet. “You get them horses paid off working here, and your debt to society will be considered on account.”
“But that…” Violet looked between them, weakly. “That’ll take years.”
“Well then you better start workin’, girl.” With a cruel grin, Arnie swatted Violet’s behind and left the office. Violet clung to a chair in front of her, which was the only thing keeping her standing. Every part of Violet trembled with anger, and her vision blurred as tears tempted welled in her eyes.
“All right, enough of that.” Miss Bethany stood, holding her fan with both palms. “First thing’s first. Won’t no man want you in that mess.” Miss Bethany reached over and yanked on a satin cord. A distant bell rang below them, and soon after, two young women appeared at the open door. “Maisey, Anna May, get this girl washed and dressed. She starts tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The two women took Violet by the hands and led her (far more gently than Arnie) back downstairs. In a back room with a wooden tub, Maisey and Anna May helped Violet undress, and then scrubbed her in the bath. The bristles were stiff and scratched her skin, leaving it red and tender.
“It’s been a while since we got any new girls,” said the shorter of the two (Maisey). She was a chubby, round faced girl with two muddy red braids. “You’ll like it here. Miss Bethany is a little rough around the edges, but we’re really just one big family.”
Anna May nodded, scrubbing the dirt roughly from Violet’s scalp. “Now you should know some rules before you get started.” Anna May was a tall, gangly girl, with sandy hair, pinned up by a feathery head piece that matched her powder blue dress. “We don’t start work till about three, after everyone has their dinner. You got a quota of about ten clients a week. Any less than that and Miss Bethany demotes you to chore work.”
“Though we wouldn’t recommend that,” said Maisey. “House chores only pays about fifty cents a day. A good night of work can earn you twenty dollars if you keep at it.”
“And don’t let Miss Bethany ever catch you givin’ none away for free. You get yourself a sweetheart, you keep that secret. We had a girl, Yolanda, got caught sneakin’ off with her boy. Miss Bethany charged her fifteen whole dollars for work owed.”
Maisey picked up a small pair of clippers and began to trim Violet’s grubby nails. “Speaking of, the house gets ten percent of what you make each night. Sorta like rent.” Anna May paused and leaned forward. “You got all that?” Violet said nothing. She sat in the tepid water, numb to the rough scrubbers and harsh rules of the whore house. Maisey paused clipping, and she and Anna May exchanged glances. Anna May pulled her hands from Violet’s hair.
“Sugar?” She gently touched Violet’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Violet curled into a tight ball and buried her face in her bruised knees. She sniffed, gripping her arms tightly. “Can I…be alone for just a bit, please?”
There was a moment of understanding between the two girls, and they both stood from their stools. “Of course,” said Anna May. “You just call us when you’re ready, darlin’. No need to rush it.” She ushered Maisey out, and closed the door to the back room to give Violet her privacy.
Violet kept still, and listened closely. After a bit of chatter, Violet heard their footsteps walk off deeper into the house. She lifted her head and waited a moment in silence before launching out of the water and hurrying to the nearest window. It was high and small, so as to provide modesty to the girls bathing inside. On her tiptoes, Violet peered outside. Richard and his men were idling in the back of the brothel, laughing and smoking cigarettes. Grimacing, Violet pulled from the window. If she was going to escape, it couldn’t be in broad daylight.
With no other choice, Violet finished her bath and called for Maisey and Anna May to return.
* * * *
“This will be your room. Not the best, but you can work up to better.” Anna May opened the door, and Violet took a look inside. Her room was a 6x6 box with an old wood frame bed, broken down dresser, and a washbowl. There was a single window, but the hinges looked too rusty to use. Violet noticed a small cluster of flies gathering at the window’s small crack.
“Right, that’s about everything.” Anna May observed the room and straightened her skirts. “Now if there’s anything you need, don’t bother Miss Bethany. You call for me or Maisey and we’ll help you with anything. Are you hungry?” Violet shook her head. “Well then, I guess we get to it.” She nodded to the wardrobe. “Should be something suitable for you in there. Whenever you’re ready, come on down and pick out a client. Or you can just wait for one here. Your choice.” With one last smile, Anna May left Violet to her devices.
Violet stood there a moment, looking around her new home. Heart heavy, she pulled open the top drawer of the wardrobe. A fresh-ish pair of stockings and a beat up old bible stared at her. She moved on to the second drawer, and found a brown cloth dress. She held it up to her person. It was her size, but hardly ideal. There were holes and sloppy patches everywhere, and the seams were wearing down. The whole thing smelled old and musty, and Violet tossed it aside in disgust.
There was a knock at the door. Violet turned to see it open, and in stepped Simon. Of the handful of Richard’s men, Simon was no doubt the ugliest in the bunch. Aside from his generous belly, Simon had missing teeth and rough, cratered skin. His eyes were yellow from drink, which Violet smelled immediately upon his arrival. He ran his hand down his craggy face, his beady eyes taking in Violet’s every detail.
“They said I’d find you here.” He took a swig from the bottle he held, and closed the door behind him. “Had to pay more than you’re worth, in my opinion. But, that first bite always tastes so much better.” He finished up his bottle and set it down on the dresser. His slimy tongue ran along the top row of his tobacco-stained teeth. “Well then? Let’s see what I paid for.”
Violet remained stiff and alert. “I don’t gotta show you nothin’.”
“That right? I guess I should just call Rich for a one-way ticket to Ossining, horse thief.”
Violet’s skin burned down to her toes. Disgusted and angry, she turned away from him and began to unbutton her shirt. She could hear Simon breathe behind her. Each sickening growl was moist with saliva as he watched her undress. Violet got down to the final button, moving as slowly as she could. In the reflection of the glass, her eyes had fixated on one particular item: the empty liquor bottle.
“What’s takin’ so long?” Simon demanded.
“Button’s stuck.”
“Stuck? Shit, I’ll saw that damn button off.” Simon’s heavy footfalls came towards her. Just when he closed the gap between them, Violet turned sharply and launched her elbow deep into Simon’s thick gut. He grunted in surprise and stumbled away. Before he could gather his wits, Violet sprung towards the liquor bottle, grabbed the neck, and smashed it over Simon’s big head. He cried out, flailing blindly. Bottle neck in hand, Violet made for the door, but was quickly tugged back.
“Bitch!” Simon jerked her away by her arm and threw her against the bed. He lurched for her, but Violet slashed the air, narrowly missing his ugly face. Simon grabbed her wrist, nearly crushing it in his beefy hand. As he struggled to yank the bottle neck from her fingers, Violet reared back and slammed both heels right into his crotch. His eyes bulged and his face flashed red as he toppled over from pain. A second time, Violet made a run for it. But even in his pained state, Simon managed to grab ahold of Violet’s arm. His mouth frothing with rage, Simon balanced on one knee, his fingernails digging into her arm.
“I paid to fuck ya,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “But now? Now I’m just gonna kill ya.” He grabbed Violet’s throat and pinned her to the bed. Immediately, Violet struggled for air. She tried kicking again, but Simon laid a heavy knee on both of her legs. No matter how much training Mei gave her, a man of Simon’s size still had the advantage. Gasping for air, Violet’s vision began to fade dark. Simon had her beat.
Well. Almost beat.
With as much strength as Violet could muster, she grabbed hold of his pinky around her neck and pulled. The next thing she knew, Simon yelped like a wounded puppy, and pulled both hands away from her. Coughing and light headed, Violet swung wildly. The punches weren’t power-packed, but they were enough to unsettle Simon’s balance. He fell against one of the posters of the bed frame, snapping off the tip on his way down.
Violet desperately searched for the broken bottle, but found it shattered beneath the heel of Simon’s massive boot. However, the splintered bedpost was well within her reach. The broken end had formed itself into a sharp stake; deadlier, perhaps, than any shard of glass. Violet swiped it from the floor and stood. Simon managed to slump to his feet. Rattled, he assessed the weapon Violet held at the ready. He snorted. “The hell you gonna do with that, whore?” Violet remained steady. With a hideous yell, Simon lurched, and Violet struck.
The stake landed dead on. It sunk deep into Simon’s thick neck. Blood sputtered from the wound with every pump of his heart. His eyes were wide, as though what he felt above all else was pure and utter shock. After a vile gurgle, Simon fell to his knees. He was dead before he hit the floorboards.
Violet stood above his body, shaking. Blood spattered against her open shirt and stomach, and sunk deep into her fingers. For a long moment, she was stuck in the horrific realization of what she had done. A man lay dead at her feet, his life taken by her own hand.
Violet felt sick. Thankfully, she had little else other than the stale bread and gravy given to her by the sheriff, so all she could do was spit up in a corner. When the nausea left her, she took a minute to collect her senses. She had killed a man. The reality played on an endless loop in her mind. If there was ever a chance of Violet returning to her unassuming life before the Railwalkers, that chance was long gone.
After settling down, Violet noticed something sticking out of Simon’s belt. A gun. Her gun. The Smith & Wesson Linus had given her way back at the Bone House was settled comfortably in Simon’s holster. She took it back. It formed to her hand perfectly, and Violet was overcome with fearlessness.
It was now or never.
With no option to sneak her way out, Violet threw open the door and stormed down the stairs to the main parlor. The entire room shook at the sight of the brothel’s new whore, splattered with blood and wielding a gun, storming to freedom. Women screamed and men reached for their weapons.
“Don’t nobody move!” Violet thundered. Her grip was steady as a rock. Perhaps Simon’s murder still lingered in her eyes, because the men who first began to rise slowly took their seats. “Any of you yellow-bellied fuckers follow me, you end up like the bastard who thought he could lay a finger on me and live. Do I make myself clear!?” The room shuddered at Violet’s voice.
“Violet.”
Violet whipped around, though she kept her gun on the parlor. Miss Bethany, cautious and wide-eyed, approached her with her hands raised. “Violet,” she repeated, “put the gun down.” She held up her hands, as though to calm a wild animal. “Did that man hurt you? We can talk about this. Let’s just…talk about this.”
From the corner of her eye, Violet saw a man slowly reach for his pistol. Without hesitation, she turned to face him and squeezed the trigger. Bullseye. The would-be assailant flew backwards and broke a chair behind him, howling in pain. A bullet wound now bled from his right shoulder.
“I said.” Violet cocked her barrel loudly and held it right between Miss Bethany’s eyes. “Don’t. Move.”
Miss Bethany held up her hands. Violet looked around her. No one else dared reach for their gun. Without any more time wasted, Violet made her way to the door. But before she could be chased by the entire brothel, Violet fired another shot. This one hit the chandelier. It crashed into the center of the parlor, the oil lamps bursting into flame on the wooden tables. Knowing her time was limited, Violet took off through the doors.
It was dark by now, though the air was still thick with heat. Behind her, chaos erupted as people fled the burning brothel. Violet made a mad dash for the stables behind the sheriff’s station, and found Maple easily. The nag whinnied in excitement as Violet threw open the gate and hopped onto her back. Already she heard shouts and gunfire, most likely directed at her.
“Heya!” Violet thrust her heels into Maple’s ribs, and the pair of them soared off into the night. She chanced a look behind her to see men clambering to their own horses. A few took off in Violet’s direction, shooting manically. Violet wove Maple back and forth along the dry desert, desperately trying to shake them and avoid bullets. Violet tried returning fire, but it was difficult to hit moving targets in the dark. Fortunately, the same was true for them. Eventually, Violet’s six shooter ran out of ammo, and Violet threw everything she could into riding.
Maple ran as fast and as far as her legs could carry them. Hoping to lose the men, Violet rode down into a deep canyon. The ride was treacherous, the terrain uneven and rocky. Violet had to slow Maple to keep her from twisting an ankle. From the echo of the canyon, she heard her pursuers struggle, but move forward. Violet only hoped that the canyon would lead to a split path, and she could shake them for good.
Unfortunately, it led to no path at all. In the dark, Violet had nearly run Maple straight into a wall of rock but managed to stop her horse just in time. Violet scrambled to look for a way out, but there was none. There was only an incline of red rock, which looked next to impossible to climb by herself, let alone on horseback.
“There!” The voice of one of the men shook the canyon, and Violet turned to see the three men’s horses stumble into view. The leader of the three pulled out a long pistol and held it steady. Violet’s heart came to a full halt, and she grabbed Maple’s mane tightly.
Thunk.
The man flailed backward, dropping his gun entirely. A black feathered arrow had pierced his heart, his eyes wide with shocked silence. More arrows whistled through the air, striking the men with extreme precision. The horses bucked, and eventually ran, leaving their dead riders behind in the dust.
Violet gasped for air, staring at the dead men in shock. She looked up behind her. There, atop the incline, was a row of Indian warriors, bows in hand. Violet gaped at them in the moonlight, pulling Maple back enough to see properly.
“Who…?” Her words sputtered as she struggled to voice her awe.
“Violet!” A familiar voice rang out, and Violet straightened.
“Rory!?”
Sure enough, Rory leapt from horseback and nimbly scuttled down the rocky incline. Laughing with relief, Violet dismounted Maple and threw her arms around him. “Rory!” She repeated his name, sobbing in happiness at the sight of her dear friend. Overcome with joy, she overwhelmed him with kisses, babbling about how she feared never seeing him again. Rory, though kept himself quiet, hugged Violet just as hard as she hugged him. After the wave of emotion settled, Violet pulled back to see him properly. “But I don’t understand. How? How did you…?” Her eyes trailed up to a new figure who descended the incline and joined them.
Dressed from head to toe in the clothes of a warrior, Tiger the Apache smiled at them both.
* * * *
Violet had spent the last few hours of darkness in a dreamlike silence. After a rush of adrenaline, anger, and fear, Violet was left buzzing and numb to the world. Tiger, who clearly led his band of Apaches, marched them closer to El Paso, but stopped a few miles out. There, they lingered, watching small lights of life flickering in the distance. It wasn’t hard to piece together their intentions; after all, Rory was with them. No doubt he’d managed to somehow get across their dire situation. And while Violet, normally, would be brimming with questions—how did they find each other? How did they know to go to El Paso? How did Rory manage to communicate, let alone convince them to help?—much of her lacked the energy to voice them.
Violet had killed a man that night. It still didn’t seem real. Violet stared at her stained hands in the darkness, trailing the now black stains on her fingers, and the dirt beneath her nails. Her shirt was also ruined beyond repair, with rips and tears from Simon’s assault, and soaked with the man’s dying blood. Yet for all the horror, Violet herself was not shaken. At least, not in the way she thought she should be. After Munts was killed in front of her, Violet was chilled to her bone, and his intentions mere moments prior had not been unlike those of Simon’s. But while Munts’ murder left her haunted, Simon’s left her calm.
Am I a monster? she wondered. Surely she must be. What human being could take a man’s life and feel nothing? No matter how heinous, a life was still a life. Even with falling in with the Railwalkers considered, this had always been her one and only truth. Evil deserved a fair trial, the same as any, to be judged only by the Lord and the law. Nothing had changed her view on this fact, not even Mei’s love.
But what trial would Simon have? came another thought. What trial would I have? They sold me away like a head of cattle. No lawyer. No judge, no jury, no due process. Guilty for stealin’ my own horse. Anger from before began to light anew within her breast, and she clenched her fists as the thoughts kept rolling in. That goddamned sheriff wasn’t no help. Seemed mighty pleased to be rid of me, in fact. Who’s to say whatever judge they picked wouldn’t feel the same? That’s if I got me a judge in the first place.
And Mei…Her anger softened, replaced only with despair, and a longing for her lover’s arms. Mei, Mei…I’m sorry. Christ, how could I let them do that to ya? Why couldn’t I protect you? You’re always there, watchin’ over me. Keepin’ me safe. And the one time I needed to do the same…Miserable, Violet held her arms and curled into a tight ball.
“Violet…?” Rory’s gentle voice pulled her attention, and she lifted her head from her arms. Rory was knelt before her, gently pressing his hands against her knees. “You all right? They didn’t hurt you none, did they?”
Violet was nearly moved to tears. Reaching out, she pulled Rory into her lap and held him close. “No,” she said. “No, they didn’t hurt me.” Violet gently pet Rory’s ginger hair, the action soothing them both. “One tried though. And I fixed him good.” They sat in silence a moment longer. Violet’s eyes were transfixed on El Paso’s tiny details. “Won’t nobody try that a second time,” she swore, quietly. “Not to me, or you, or any of us.” Her hand fell to the holster on her belt (taken from one of the dead riders from earlier in the night) and her fingers settled on the cold, hard handle of her Smith & Wesson revolver.
No man will ever lay a hand on me again.
They waited in silence after that. Rory had curled up in Violet’s lap to sleep, but she and the Apaches remained vigilant. Steadily, the lights in El Paso began to flicker out. The sky above stretched until the vivid black faded into a dull gray. First light was mere hours off when Tiger gave the order. Keeping Rory in her arms, Violet mounted Maple and followed them towards the town. As they neared it, Violet kept her eyes glued to the horizon, but to her relief, saw no posted watchmen. Even the dogs slept peacefully on the stoops of their houses. Now that she was of clearer mind, Violet wondered what the plan was exactly. She got her answer shortly.
“AIIIIYAA!” With a wild battle cry, Tiger and his band let loose on the sleeping town of El Paso. They flooded the streets, cracking windows and hurling arrows into the night. While Tiger and his Indians overran the town, Violet rode straight for the sheriff’s station. She practically flew off Maple’s back, gun in hand, and kicked open the door.
The Railwalkers were in their cells, just how Violet left them. They bolted up as Violet entered. In the chaos, Linus had opened his mouth to say something, but Violet couldn’t hear him. Just as she stepped in, a bare fist flung itself past Violet’s face, missing her nose by inches. Young Tom, his arm still slung, had taken a wild swing as Violet intruded. Violet thwacked the butt of her pistol into Tom’s temple without hesitation, and down he went like a sack of potatoes. He moaned in pain, dizzy and blinking. Violet spotted the ring of keys on his belt and swiped them. She then gave Tom one last kick in the gut, just for good measure.
Within moments, the Railwalkers were free and hurried to the weapon’s arsenal. Sitting Bear grabbed his shotgun, and Linus retrieved his two Colts. But Mei’s Winchester was nowhere to be found.
“Damned bastard still has it,” she seethed. Now leading the troop, Mei rushed out the front door and into the chaos. The Apaches were making quick work of El Paso. Buildings set alight with wildfire. Women in their nightgowns flooded the streets for safety, looking like a menagerie of scattered ghosts. Tiger’s men, collecting spoils around town, rode fearless and untested. Those who dared shoot at the Apaches were cut down quickly. One gun, however, remained up and firing, and the familiar crack of its bullet caught their attention.
In nothing but a pair of sloppy trousers, Richard stood in the middle of the street, firing on Tiger’s warriors. Mei made a bee-line for Richard and was on him faster than he could turn around. Mei knocked her rifle out of Richard’s hands and, pinning him to his back by her boot, held the loaded gun right between Richard’s eyes.
“Abernathy,” she hissed. “Where is he?”
Richard, sweaty and red faced, spat on Mei’s gun. “Go to hell!”
Bang!
Richard’s left ear went flying as blood sprayed from the bullet wound. He cried out in pain and covered his soiled head.
“I said.” Mei cocked her gun for another shot and aimed it again. “Where is Abernathy?”
Woozy, Richard’s eyes glazed over as he battled for breath. After a moment of silence, he looked to his right. Mei followed his gaze. Just a mile out of town, a stagecoach frantically kicked up dust as it made a hectic escape.
Mei spared no time. She signaled to Sitting Bear, who held his teeth to his lower lip and whistled, sharp and loud. From the stables, the Railwalkers’ horses came barging out, captained by the massive Huī. Violet was quick to mount Maple as the others jumped onto their respective horses. Keeping one arm tight around Rory’s waist, she followed them as they thundered towards the escaping coach.
With Mei at the front, the Railwalkers began to fire. The driver tried to shoot back, but his aim was sloppy, and proved no threat to the oncoming criminals. Eventually, their bullets hit the back wheels of the carriage, and the whole thing spun out of control. The two horses bucked wildly as the coach toppled over in a cloud of red dust. The Railwalkers’ horses hadn’t even come to a full stop when Mei dismounted. She closed the ten feet between her and the carriage with a swift pace, reloading her rifle as she approached. “Abernathy!” she roared. Reaching the door, Mei threw it open and yanked out the man inside.
The sheriff, sweaty, sniveling, and red, stared at the Railwalkers in terror. Mei’s face fell from rage to disgust. She threw the sheriff back into the toppled stagecoach and spun away. Violet and the others exchanged worried glances. Mei stood silently, her back to the wreck. From inside the coach, Violet saw the sheriff creep his way out the door and to safety. He’d barely gotten his upper half out when Mei turned, held her rifle straight, and fired. The sheriff’s head exploded into a thousand meaty pieces, and went flying in every direction. Violet jerked and quickly covered Rory’s eyes, praying that it was too fast for him to process. Headless, the sheriff’s body went limp and swung out over the roof of the coach.
As Mei led them into the distance, the sun began to rise over the decimated town of El Paso.